


Or You Could Let It Go

by EthelPhantom



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander regrets everything, Angst, Author regrets nothing though, Canon Era, F/M, I finished writing this at like 12am oops?, M/M, Regret, The Reynolds Pamphlet, so does john
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 11:05:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18342401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EthelPhantom/pseuds/EthelPhantom
Summary: He'd been watching over him for nearly 15 years now. He knew he couldn’t hear him when he spoke to him, or feel him when he tried to touch him, but at least he was there.He'd seen him make many terrible decisions, but at least he seemed to regret the yet worst of them. At least he possessed some remorse for hurting his wife. And, at least he knew what he did was wrong.Yeah, this was definitely his biggest fuck up yet.





	Or You Could Let It Go

**Author's Note:**

> You know that moment when you swear you will never write fanfiction about the American Founding Fathers and then end up doing it anyway? Yeah, so do I.

**_1797_ **

 

He'd been watching over him for nearly 15 years now. He knew he couldn’t hear him when he spoke to him, or feel him when he tried to touch him, but at least he was there.

He'd seen him make many terrible decisions, but at least he seemed to regret the yet worst of them. At least he possessed some remorse for hurting his wife. And, at least he knew what he did was wrong.

...Not that John had any rights to say anything about treating your wife well. He'd married his out of pity and then proceeded to leave her alone with their daughter because he really wanted to go to war and die.

John knew he had tried to stop his best friend from creating and gathering the ingredients needed to ruin his life himself together. He’d tried, he really had. It was just that Alexander couldn’t hear him, no matter what John tried.

Yeah, he’d died 15 years ago after getting shot for God knows how many times. He’d been happy to die, that he couldn’t deny, but seeing Alexander almost ruin his life over and over again now made him regret being so reckless and suicidal amd getting himself killed.

His regret for leaving Alexander alone was big enough for him to come back, though. It was always Alex, Alex, only Alex in his mind. Well, at least he was the only specific person constantly in his mind even after his death. Slavery was on his mind a lot as well, and so were Martha and Frances, but since he didn’t truly know either of them, it was always Alexander that was on top of his mind. He had been the last thing that he thought of when he died, too.

His closest friend, his once-lover. His beautiful Alexander. Their relationship had mostly come to an end when Alexander had found Eliza, and gotten married. Then he had found out about Martha, and Alexander had so furious that it made John terrified even their friendship had come to meet its end. It didn’t, but John had been scared nonetheless.

Yes, he cared about Alexander a lot. He had, and he still did. And that’s why he was now so concerned for both his friend's wellbeing and life. All John could see Alexander do right now was walk down the path that led to the ruins of his life, and he was scared it also led to his demise. John was sure his family would suffer if Alexander died, no matter how much he had fucked up before. After all, Alexander did love Eliza and his kids a lot, he took care of them and he was usually such a great father and husband. Just, not right now.

John rested his chin on Alexander’s shoulder while he was writing something. God, did he ever stop writing? He read a few lines of the text before he realised what it was. A terrified whisper escaped his lips.

_“Alexander, no.”_

How had he not foreseen this happening? He should have guessed his friend would do just this.

_I owe perhaps to my friends an apology for condescending to give a public explanation. A just pride with reluctance stoops to a formal vindication against so despicable a contrivance and is inclined rather to oppose to it the uniform evidence of an upright character._

_The charge against me is a connection with one James Reynolds for purposes of improper pecuniary speculation. My real crime is an amorous connection with his wife, for a considerable time with his privity and connivance, if not originally brought on by a combination between the husband and wife with the design to extort money from me._

He didn’t even know what to say, and so he merely watched Alexander build his own downfall. Days turned to weeks, and finally he was done. Alexander stretched in his chair before standing up. Then he walked to the only window in the room and looked up at the starry night sky. The clear sky didn't show any signs that could have told anyone of what was going to happen so very soon.

“You know, John, it’s nearly the anniversary of your death. It’s been 15 years since I last saw you, 15 long years I have lived knowing my closest friend won’t open his eyes ever again. I wish you were still here.”

I am. You just can’t see me.

“I miss you. Maybe you could help me figure out what to do.”

Alexander’s voice was sad. He sighed and turned around. If he could see John, he’d be looking straight at him now. Then he sunk down and hugged his knees, trembling. John had seen Alexander in this state countless times by now, whenever Alexander thought no one could see him. This wasn't new. It didn’t make it any better.

He still hated seeing Alexander so down, so… devastated.

“I did a terrible deed, and now they’re telling rumours about me. They’re saying I have committed a treason, they’re spreading rumours about me cheating. Not that the latter isn’t true. I have caused Eliza so much anguish and I can't even begin to explain how I regret it. I—” Alexander swallowed whatever he was about to say as he broke down, now sobbing.

“Perhaps if you had been here I would have seen the wrongs in my actions. Perhaps you would have told me to do it not.”

John kneeled next to Alexander and put his hand on Alexander’s shoulder.

“They will ruin my life should I not do this.”

“Alexander, you ruin your life all by yourself should you do it.”

“But, you know, I would not have gotten this far if not for my writing, so I will get through this too if I only write. I just need to be honest for once in my life and tell them.”

John shook his head. “Or you could let it go. They’re merely rumours they have.”

Alexander stood up again and wiped his eyes. He breathed in deeply before walking back to his desk. Alexander leaned on it with both of his hands, letting his gaze fall on the writings. He was no longer talking to John, but John followed him anyway and placed his hands on Alexander’s shoulders, stroking them. He hoped it would bring some kind of a comfort to his friend in this dark, deep abyss of pain and regret. It was good he regretted, but it didn’t lessen the sadness John felt for Alexander’s anguish.

“The friend who would tell me not to do it is in the ground”, Alexander told himself, looking at the letter he’d received from Henry Laurens, informing him of John’s death. He’d stored it and placed it on his desk so that he would never forget about him.

“When I publish it, the enemies I’ve made won’t have anything on me anymore.”

“Or you could let it go.”

He couldn’t hear him, he knew it, but he had to try. He had to.

“I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory.”

Alexander picked up his quill. When John saw him tremble slightly, he wrapped his arms around him.

The next words were barely above a whisper. His voice cracked as Alexander tried to swallow down the lump in his throat, swallow down the unshed tears burning in his eyes.

“This is the only way I can protect my legacy.”

The quill swayed with elegance as Alexander moved it on the paper, writing down the words ‘The Reynolds Pamphlet’. John moved his hand to Alexander’s, and despite knowing better, he hoped Alex could sense his presence and realise he was there for him, had been for all these years.

“I am positive there are better ways, Alexander.”

Alexander let out a breath he’d been holding, and as though he had felt John’s touch on his hand, he placed his right hand on his left. It would have been on top of John’s if it hadn’t gone through.

“I apologise, my dear Laurens. I must terribly disappoint if you are watching over me from wherever you are, but I don’t know what else to do.”

“Yes I am disappointed, but even if you publish that, I will stay by your side. I will keep guarding you. I love you.”

And then, as though a miracle had happened, Alexander seemed to hear. He whipped his head around to look where the voice had come from, but he couldn’t see anything. Even so, he smiled sadly and huffed.

“Of course you aren’t here. But, I thank you, in case I didn’t mishear it and you indeed just spoke to me, John.”

“I am and always will be here, even if only for you. _Always._ ”

 

❋❋❋❋❋❋❋

 

“I’m sorry, my very dear Eliza. I hope you can find it in you to one day forgive me.”

“What? Alexander, what are you talking about?”

“It’s nothing. I’ll see you later.”

  
  
  
  


“I apologise, Mrs. Schuyler Hamilton, for I couldn’t stop him. The fault is mine as well, so blame me too. He regrets it and he loves you so much. He really does. I wish you can understand that even if you won’t forgive him.”

**Author's Note:**

> This happened because I was listening to the workshop version of Hurricane a lot today. I'm not sorry. 
> 
> Also, fun fact, the Reynolds Pamphlet was apparently published exactly two days before John's death's 15th anniversary. Great job Alex, you managed to not fuck up your at least 9 other people's lives (of whom all weren't even born yet) for almost 15 years after your dear friend's death. I'm almost proud. 
> 
> Oh, I really appreciate kudos, and comments and feedback even more. I hope you enjoyed this.


End file.
